


Less Shallow Than Daylight

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Consent Issues, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deniz is a hard man to wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Shallow Than Daylight

Deniz is a deep sleeper; always has been. It helped him immensely during that awful last year of his parents’ marriage, when every night would end in shouting matches, and many mornings start with them. That entire year, Deniz Öztürk was probably the only ten-year-old who voluntarily went to bed an hour before his official bedtime, and had to be shaken out of bed in the morning. Like a squirrel, he tried to hibernate through their fights that were every bit as constant and recurring in his life as winter.

So he doesn’t wake when Roman first moves uneasily in sleep and then thrashes, twisting the sheets about his legs; he doesn’t wake when Roman murmurs something unintelligible and comes awake with a choked cry, or when he lies on his back for several minutes, trying to calm his ragged breathing. Even when he sits up to reach for his glass of water on the bedside table, or gropes with shaking fingers for the familiar square plastic shape of condom wrappers, Deniz doesn’t wake.

He does register it, on a level somewhere between consciousness and dream, when Roman’s weight moves against his back; he feels the brush of lips against his nape and hands between his legs, easing them apart. His mind is slow-moving and unconcerned, hazy with sleep, and even the hot, heavy slide of Roman’s cock against his cleft doesn’t surprise or entirely wake him. He just murmurs a sleepy question, and is reassured by Roman’s mouth moving against his ear, shaping a whispered, “Shhhh, it’s just me”, although that’s just silly, really, ‘cause who the hell else would he be?

It does occur to him to wonder, briefly, at Roman’s urgency, Roman who is always so keen on foreplay and consent, always asking if this or that is okay, and he does make a muffled noise of not-quite-protest when he is breached without preliminaries; but they’ve already done it twice and a half before they fell asleep and one of those times was him getting fucked, so he’s still slippery and loose enough for it not to hurt much, and anyway, Roman’s only come twice and he did three times, so it’s only fair. Deniz knows it’s silly, but he can’t help keeping a tally.

He tries to raise himself up a bit, to gain some leverage and make things easier, but Roman’s weight pushes him down on his belly, Roman’s knees between his legs nudging outwards, spreading him farther, and there is Roman’s voice again, dark and sweet with an undertone of desperate that he might wonder about, if he were awake, “No, _Süßer_ , don’t move… just let me… just let me have you.”

He tries to tell Roman that he can have him any time, any way, he knows that; but forming words costs effort and it doesn’t matter anyway. He makes a low, drowsy noise instead as Roman’s cock pushes past the initial resistance and then up and inside him, in a long, luxurious slide that shivers through his every nerve ending and stiffens his cock against the tangled sheets underneath him. As if in answer, a hot, unsteady breath of air gusts against the sensitive skin of his nape, and Roman’s hands come up atop his, entwining their fingers as Roman withdraws and plunges in again, deeper this time, pulling another moan from Deniz. Roman’s breath turns into laughter, trickling across the skin of his back like warm honey. “Look at you,” he murmurs, “So responsive. You love this, don’t you?”

He can’t answer because talking requires air and conscious thought, neither of which he has just now; so he answers the only way he can, his body undulating invitingly underneath Roman’s within the confines of his limited space.

This is different than their usual urgent frenzy, different than the taut arch of enflamed tension he’s learned desire to be. He’s hard, but there’s nothing to be done about it other than hump the mattress a little and he doesn’t have the energy for even that. His body is entirely languid, sprawled wide open in trusting welcome; he feels himself melting further with every one of Roman’s thrusts, undone completely by this dreamlike invasion.

Yes, he does love this, as much as he loves it the other way round: He loves being fucked. He loves being mounted and taken, loves the slide of friction and heat, the sensation of being spread open and filled, the wordless dialogue of possession and generosity that brings their joined bodies into a delicate, perfect sort of balance – _yes, you can have me, because I want you to_. It’s nothing he could ever explain to anyone, nor would he want to, but he does. It’s an easy admission, here in the dark, which is less shallow than daylight.

There’s no room to move, but that’s okay, this isn’t about him. He feels floaty and perfect, made treasured by every clench of Roman’s fingers around his, every brush of Roman’s hardened nipples against his back, every slick, full thrust of Roman’s swollen cock into his body. He moans appreciatively when Roman’s teeth graze the back of his neck, and Roman picks up the pace, fucking him fast and desperate, murmuring things in his ear he doesn’t quite catch, nonsensical things like, “ _You have to…_ ” and “ _…so much it hurts_ ” and, silliest of all, “ _…don’t leave_ ”. Deniz doesn’t say anything back, all he can do is lie there and take it, his cock trapped hard and aching against his belly; he can hear the slick noises of Roman’s thrusts and withdrawals, can feel the hot, rhythmic slap of his balls against his arse, and when Roman grips his fingers hard and shoves his hips forward and places his lips against Deniz’s temple, whispering, “Come for me, beautiful,” all he can do is buck and twitch and come just like that, trapped between the sheets and his belly, without either of them ever having touched him. _It’s not fair,_ he thinks groggily, _that makes it four to two_ , but seriously, that’s daft, and anyway, Roman isn’t done yet. He keeps fucking Deniz through the twitches of his aftermath, drawing in a hissing breath as Deniz clenches around him, and comes with a muffled cry, his fingers wrapping so tightly around Deniz’s that it hurts. When he slumps against his back, Deniz can feel his heartbeat, fast and pounding, travelling through Deniz’s spine and straight to the core of him, resounding somewhere inside. Roman’s damp lips move against his shoulder blade, forming words he can’t hear, but he can understand them anyway, as if his skin had already absorbed their meaning. “I love you too,” he tries to say, but his voice is muffled by the pillow, and he’s not sure if Roman has heard.

After a while, the weight of Roman’s heated, boneless limbs atop him grows uncomfortable; much as he likes the contact, he’s had enough of being pinned down. He musters the strength to roll them around, away from the wet spot; reaches down to peel the condom off Roman and toss it out of bed – that won’t be fun to clean up tomorrow, but who the hell cares – and tucks himself around the limp armful of Roman, who twitches feebly at his ministrations and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

Deniz snorts and nuzzles against his ear. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Roman says softly, hand coming up in the dark to brush over Deniz’s face, as if seeking reassurance that there’s no frown of distaste or blame etched on his features. “I should’ve asked.”

“Oh shuddup,” Deniz murmurs into his hair; sleep is dragging him down, heavy as weights, and he thinks there’s something else Roman says, something that sounds like a question, but he’s already gone, spinning down into sated, contented darkness. It probably wasn’t important, anyway.


End file.
